How to (Almost) Get Left in Amsterdam

Oh, Sweden. What a delightfully weird little place you are.

I tried caviar paste out of a tube. I ate green, whiskey-scented pastries called “dammsugare”, that literally translate in English to vacuum cleaner.

I drank (five) $19USD mojitos in a yacht club that was half rum lounge, half baby-boomer dance party run by a Swedish-fitness-celebrity-turned-DJ.

Stenungsbaden Yacht Club

Stenungsbaden Yacht Club

On our last day, we wandered around Gothenburg. We went to the art museum, did some shopping and enjoyed some of the best desserts and mochas at a French patisserie.

Le Pain Francais - Gothenburg, Sweden

Le Pain Francais – Gothenburg, Sweden

I tried really, really hard to miss all of my flights back to the good old U. S. of A. (Read: sarcasm, I had a very rough day of traveling.)

IMG_3418

Final approach into Amsterdam

We got lost on the way to the airport in Sweden. In Amsterdam, I waited for my friend to come back from the bathroom (like he asked me to do) and he ended up going to the gate and not telling me, so I barely made it to the gate before the closed the doors (four minutes and a sprint to be exact). In Minnesota, I had 57 very short minutes to deplane, clear immigration & customs, exit the Delta terminal, re-enter the main terminal for my Frontier connection, go through security, get to my gate and board for Colorado. I learned that it’s deemed “illegal” to book an international connecting flight with less than one hour – thanks sassy Delta flight attendant, I realize how ill planned this decision was.

I did end up making it back to Denver. My nerves were shot, I had been up for almost 36 hours (which is a really long time for me) and the third plane of my 5,500+ mile trans-Atlantic trip was full of really drunk early 20-somethings.

When I was picked up, the first thing I said was “Hi, thanks for getting me, I missed you! But hey, can we stop by the liquor store on our way home? I need like nineteen beers rightfuckingnow.”

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